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"portugal" poems
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
maxneumann
The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
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196
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) was a Turkish poet, editor, columnist and historian, as well as a politician and diplomat. Born born Ahmet Âgâh, he wrote under the pen names Agâh Kemal, Esrar, Mehmet Agâh, and Süleyman Sadi. He served as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, Portugal and Pakistan. Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”) by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch for the refugees The time to weigh anchor has come; a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown, cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts. No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure; the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief, scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring... Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing! There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life! The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile, for they cannot know where the vanished are bound. Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves, since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey. Full Moon by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch You are so lovely the full moon just might delight in your rising, as curious and bright, to vanquish night. But what can a mortal man do, dear, but hope? I’ll ponder your mysteries and (hmmmm) try to cope. We both know you have every right to say no. The Music of the Snow by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years! This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years! Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery, It rises from a choir of a hundred voices! As the organ’s harmonies resound profoundly, I share the sufferings of Slavic grief. Then my mind drifts far from this city, this era, To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey. Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear, With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul! Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me; I keep them at bay all night with my dreams! Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer. Keywords/Tags: Beyatli, Agah, Kemal, Esrar, Turkish, translation, Turkey, silent, ship, anchor, harbor, ghosts, grief, Istanbul, moon, music, snow
0
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
michael-r-burch
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) was a Turkish poet, editor, columnist and historian, as well as a politician and diplomat. Born born Ahmet Âgâh, he wrote under the pen names Agâh Kemal, Esrar, Mehmet Agâh, and Süleyman Sadi. He served as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, Portugal and Pakistan. Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”) by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch for the refugees The time to weigh anchor has come; a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown, cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts. No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure; the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief, scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring... Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing! There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life! The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile, for they cannot know where the vanished are bound. Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves, since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey. Full Moon by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch You are so lovely the full moon just might delight in your rising, as curious and bright, to vanquish night. But what can a mortal man do, dear, but hope? I’ll ponder your mysteries and (hmmmm) try to cope. We both know you have every right to say no. The Music of the Snow by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years! This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years! Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery, It rises from a choir of a hundred voices! As the organ’s harmonies resound profoundly, I share the sufferings of Slavic grief. Then my mind drifts far from this city, this era, To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey. Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear, With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul! Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me; I keep them at bay all night with my dreams! Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer. Keywords/Tags: Beyatli, Agah, Kemal, Esrar, Turkish, translation, Turkey, silent, ship, anchor, harbor, ghosts, grief, Istanbul, moon, music, snow
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52
There was a Young Lady of Portugal, Whose ideas were excessively nautical: She climbed up a tree, To examine the sea, But declared she would never leave Portugal.
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3.2k
Edward Lear
There Was A Young Lady Of Portugal
There was a Young Lady of Portugal, Whose ideas were excessively nautical: She climbed up a tree, To examine the sea, But declared she would never leave Portugal.
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5
Motion makes me homesick, home makes me motion-sick. I've seen some **** you wouldn't believe in the past month of my young life I'm happy. Makes me want more. I want Guatemala I want Nepal I want the States by trains and motorcycles. I want to make something tall enough to shake hands with god and strong enough to last to the ends of the earth Or longer. I want to give the world back all I've taken from it and all the damage I've done. And then I want to do more. I want to start a revolution, live on a farm, paint a mural, play a symphony, shake hands with the Dalai Lama, write a book, and be home in time for dinner. I want to fold a thousand and one oragami cranes and set them free from space and while they float down to Mauritania and Portugal, to Argentina and Cambodia I want to wish for a reset button. Not to use right away, but just in case **** gets out of hand. So we've got a backup plan. I want to sit in my old age looking down that darkened tunnel and see my own birth pass before my eyes. I want to embrace infinity without soreness or shortcomings, without excuses or refusals I want to watch the universe collapse back in on itself and be part of everything at once. I want more than I can handle. I guess that means I'm young.
0
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
j-c-lucas
Young
Motion makes me homesick, home makes me motion-sick. I've seen some **** you wouldn't believe in the past month of my young life I'm happy. Makes me want more. I want Guatemala I want Nepal I want the States by trains and motorcycles. I want to make something tall enough to shake hands with god and strong enough to last to the ends of the earth Or longer. I want to give the world back all I've taken from it and all the damage I've done. And then I want to do more. I want to start a revolution, live on a farm, paint a mural, play a symphony, shake hands with the Dalai Lama, write a book, and be home in time for dinner. I want to fold a thousand and one oragami cranes and set them free from space and while they float down to Mauritania and Portugal, to Argentina and Cambodia I want to wish for a reset button. Not to use right away, but just in case **** gets out of hand. So we've got a backup plan. I want to sit in my old age looking down that darkened tunnel and see my own birth pass before my eyes. I want to embrace infinity without soreness or shortcomings, without excuses or refusals I want to watch the universe collapse back in on itself and be part of everything at once. I want more than I can handle. I guess that means I'm young.
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28
Que grande a geração, a de Camões, Saia de Belém, num pranto oral... Dizia adeus a grandes multidões! Olhava o horizonte pequeno Portugal Traçado o rumo do futuro, Passado o mar forte e indeciso, Pegava no leme, firme e duro, Sem dor, frio ou bramido. As ninfas, rodeavam o leme, O Sol, queimava a proa do navio, O capitão nada teme Naquele mar, escuro e bravio... Victor Marques e Atavio Nelson Chegamos a outros pontos, Do globo esférico, sem saber! Que hoje são contos, Que ainda temos de ler. Desde Ourique, Calado e Cala trava Com turbantes brancos reluzentes Os portugueses lutaram com palavra Com alegria mostravam seus dentes. Correram os desertos, tão estéreis Na defesa de um Santo Universal Pela cruz combateram infiéis Dentro e fora de Portugal. Oh.Isabel que suaves eram tuas flores! Que rosas encarnadas pueris Que as músicas sejam cantadas para seus amores Prendes-te por milagre o teu Diniz. OH Coimbra.que tiranas do fadário Oh Sé velha, cheia de segredos Que encantos lá havia do Hilário Ainda hoje escritos nos penedos... Santa Clara, no alto...que te vê clarissa Jovem, esbelta coimbrã! Foste, cedo freira e noviça. Salva-me deste fado, minha irmã! Olá Marquez, és do Pombal Traidor, usurpador, ladrão. NO ódio foste genial. E TUDO, tudo metia no gibão. Malandro, enganas-te o teu Rei Iludiste-o, meu falso...e mandas-te O Távora, inocente para o cadafalso Maldito sejas! Isso não foi Portugal...mas foi No norte, que uma mulher Forte, com seios apertados E espada no dentes bem cerrados Em serpente e com sua gente Em zip filas genial Firme.destinada Deu a vida mas Acabou com o Cabral Sim ali, no monte Naquele lugar Maria da Fonte Só com gente destemida, como eu ! Tal como o Lusitano no Gerez Esta pátria com um plebeu Concebeu o Tavares com um grande PORTUGUÊS Victor Marques
0
Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 10:27 PM UTC
victor-marques
Portugal....
Que grande a geração, a de Camões, Saia de Belém, num pranto oral... Dizia adeus a grandes multidões! Olhava o horizonte pequeno Portugal Traçado o rumo do futuro, Passado o mar forte e indeciso, Pegava no leme, firme e duro, Sem dor, frio ou bramido. As ninfas, rodeavam o leme, O Sol, queimava a proa do navio, O capitão nada teme Naquele mar, escuro e bravio... Victor Marques e Atavio Nelson Chegamos a outros pontos, Do globo esférico, sem saber! Que hoje são contos, Que ainda temos de ler. Desde Ourique, Calado e Cala trava Com turbantes brancos reluzentes Os portugueses lutaram com palavra Com alegria mostravam seus dentes. Correram os desertos, tão estéreis Na defesa de um Santo Universal Pela cruz combateram infiéis Dentro e fora de Portugal. Oh.Isabel que suaves eram tuas flores! Que rosas encarnadas pueris Que as músicas sejam cantadas para seus amores Prendes-te por milagre o teu Diniz. OH Coimbra.que tiranas do fadário Oh Sé velha, cheia de segredos Que encantos lá havia do Hilário Ainda hoje escritos nos penedos... Santa Clara, no alto...que te vê clarissa Jovem, esbelta coimbrã! Foste, cedo freira e noviça. Salva-me deste fado, minha irmã! Olá Marquez, és do Pombal Traidor, usurpador, ladrão. NO ódio foste genial. E TUDO, tudo metia no gibão. Malandro, enganas-te o teu Rei Iludiste-o, meu falso...e mandas-te O Távora, inocente para o cadafalso Maldito sejas! Isso não foi Portugal...mas foi No norte, que uma mulher Forte, com seios apertados E espada no dentes bem cerrados Em serpente e com sua gente Em zip filas genial Firme.destinada Deu a vida mas Acabou com o Cabral Sim ali, no monte Naquele lugar Maria da Fonte Só com gente destemida, como eu ! Tal como o Lusitano no Gerez Esta pátria com um plebeu Concebeu o Tavares com um grande PORTUGUÊS Victor Marques
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62
Dear Emma Watson - Shall we make love The object of Our spiritual quest Together? Surely an altogether Better option Than pairing you off In a commentary box With one John Motson Discussing twenty two Pairs of socks Chasing a piece of leather? If spiritual questing Is not for you I will make do With tightly tied pairs of shoes Existential emus, Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. Whilst hoping you find Your Sherlock Holmes, Miss Watson I will content myself with Cataloguing my collection of Black and white combs. I also have plots on Which I need to work - Wednesday Addams's love of Moon dried tomatoes Or Erica Roe Somewhere in Portugal Growing sweet potatoes For sale. Don't let anyone tell you There ain't no perks To being an Omega Male.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
david-alexander-jackson
Emma Watson Receives A Proposition From An Omega Male
Dear Emma Watson - Shall we make love The object of Our spiritual quest Together? Surely an altogether Better option Than pairing you off In a commentary box With one John Motson Discussing twenty two Pairs of socks Chasing a piece of leather? If spiritual questing Is not for you I will make do With tightly tied pairs of shoes Existential emus, Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. Whilst hoping you find Your Sherlock Holmes, Miss Watson I will content myself with Cataloguing my collection of Black and white combs. I also have plots on Which I need to work - Wednesday Addams's love of Moon dried tomatoes Or Erica Roe Somewhere in Portugal Growing sweet potatoes For sale. Don't let anyone tell you There ain't no perks To being an Omega Male.
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36
[Las Meninas, Oil on Canvas, 1656, Prado, Madrid] I am the first proud pronoun I against the fear of my invisibility each morning rising from minor nobility like my parents (no son of a converso – lies –) into the light of mastery; now as a Knight of Santiago - the king himself painted the cross you see in Las Meninas - nobilitas is in the faces royal with ancient lines (you understand I did not trade am Moorish of Seville and Portugal). Not from the mind but back into its expectation. I see the work reflected into the lens of sense to supplement the work into the real express itself by what a slavish love of detail cannot supply it was the power to give them what they did not see the scorn in lips from ****** generations bought by my brush among them into monarchic trade and what they thought as glory, dwarves and all larger than life. that painted me so high those royal portraits by the score keyed to the colour of fame silvered and golden mine.
0
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC
david-pollard
Diego Velazquez Self-Portrait
[Las Meninas, Oil on Canvas, 1656, Prado, Madrid] I am the first proud pronoun I against the fear of my invisibility each morning rising from minor nobility like my parents (no son of a converso – lies –) into the light of mastery; now as a Knight of Santiago - the king himself painted the cross you see in Las Meninas - nobilitas is in the faces royal with ancient lines (you understand I did not trade am Moorish of Seville and Portugal). Not from the mind but back into its expectation. I see the work reflected into the lens of sense to supplement the work into the real express itself by what a slavish love of detail cannot supply it was the power to give them what they did not see the scorn in lips from ****** generations bought by my brush among them into monarchic trade and what they thought as glory, dwarves and all larger than life. that painted me so high those royal portraits by the score keyed to the colour of fame silvered and golden mine.
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36
You probably think this poem is about Lisbon, Portugal, where women dangle your imagination like a necklace of sun-dried currants. No, Lisbon, Iowa, a town twenty-two miles removed from the 21st century, where I stopped for coffee, flipped eggs and a place to **** on my way home from god what a day; a man ordered a plate of Rice Krispie bars and tea—shuffled his wallet for ten minutes, made me nervous like he was on Thorazine; it was the last time I visited Lisbon.
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Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
doug-potter
The last time I visited Lisbon
You probably think this poem is about Lisbon, Portugal, where women dangle your imagination like a necklace of sun-dried currants. No, Lisbon, Iowa, a town twenty-two miles removed from the 21st century, where I stopped for coffee, flipped eggs and a place to **** on my way home from god what a day; a man ordered a plate of Rice Krispie bars and tea—shuffled his wallet for ten minutes, made me nervous like he was on Thorazine; it was the last time I visited Lisbon.
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22
she turned the questions in her eyes aside and stealing away in the quiet of the pine forest winters day the taste of wood smoke was tangible on the sharp cold air and his eyes hunted the ridge crest for sing of flames as they hurried their steps along the rough hewn track she carried the child whos silent contemplation showed his understandings of the gravity of this flight the bundle of possessions on his shoulder weighed upon his mind counselling himself not to regret casting it all aside should need arise the woman and child so fragile and dear to his heart mean so much more than mere trinkets of gold he would surrender without pause life and limb to spare them she was a smoky version of bobby dylan complete with winged snakes in each hand complete with a crown of jewels and the thousand words dance he was a seafaring man they reached the shore of the sea and found the wreckage of a sailing ship her fine line speaking clear of her swiftness and her appointments show without shyness that she was of the finest portugal shipyards they spent days making her seaworthy laying up in the harsh tropical sun neath the palm trees drinking *** from her stores they put to sea in the birth of the new year singing 'goodbye spanish ladies' the three of them on the skiff tacking up-channel trying to determine latitude by sighting but a fog rolls in off the coast of grande bahama as dawn breaks man woman and grown child the miles and the treasures cast aside each wore on open hearted face but neath the weary of sea miles was their joys in the true riches of eachothers soft hand entwined as they sailed into a golden dusk of a lesser throne a kingdom of the sea
0
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
mark-john-junor-1
of a lesser throne
she turned the questions in her eyes aside and stealing away in the quiet of the pine forest winters day the taste of wood smoke was tangible on the sharp cold air and his eyes hunted the ridge crest for sing of flames as they hurried their steps along the rough hewn track she carried the child whos silent contemplation showed his understandings of the gravity of this flight the bundle of possessions on his shoulder weighed upon his mind counselling himself not to regret casting it all aside should need arise the woman and child so fragile and dear to his heart mean so much more than mere trinkets of gold he would surrender without pause life and limb to spare them she was a smoky version of bobby dylan complete with winged snakes in each hand complete with a crown of jewels and the thousand words dance he was a seafaring man they reached the shore of the sea and found the wreckage of a sailing ship her fine line speaking clear of her swiftness and her appointments show without shyness that she was of the finest portugal shipyards they spent days making her seaworthy laying up in the harsh tropical sun neath the palm trees drinking *** from her stores they put to sea in the birth of the new year singing 'goodbye spanish ladies' the three of them on the skiff tacking up-channel trying to determine latitude by sighting but a fog rolls in off the coast of grande bahama as dawn breaks man woman and grown child the miles and the treasures cast aside each wore on open hearted face but neath the weary of sea miles was their joys in the true riches of eachothers soft hand entwined as they sailed into a golden dusk of a lesser throne a kingdom of the sea
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42
Dear salient Moon , how was twilight over Asia Across the bazaars of Istanbul , the mountains - of Pakistan , the midnight Sahara , the fishing - villages of Portugal Speak of the mighty Atlantic with crashing - waves , the Isle of Bermuda , the tranquil - Bahamas , the shores of Newfoundland , the hills of Scotland Sir Luna must be quite bored with Hill Country , I would surmise , after all he has witnessed on the good Earth tonight
0
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
randolph-l-wilson
Goodnight
Dear salient Moon , how was twilight over Asia Across the bazaars of Istanbul , the mountains - of Pakistan , the midnight Sahara , the fishing - villages of Portugal Speak of the mighty Atlantic with crashing - waves , the Isle of Bermuda , the tranquil - Bahamas , the shores of Newfoundland , the hills of Scotland Sir Luna must be quite bored with Hill Country , I would surmise , after all he has witnessed on the good Earth tonight
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10
Every hour of every day, In some clichéd way, I think of you At least twice. I’m a friend, I know. You say it too much, It chafes me raw. Are you really that dense?   Or maybe it’s a ruse, A system you’ve devised To keep me at bay, Because you just don’t feel The same way. I’m crazy about you, I admit, If you saw me now, You’d recognize the guilt, Brightly scrawled across my face, Like a neon sign: The coffee, the talks, the long walks? All excuses, Preambles for profound, passionate ********** That never materialized. I don’t think it ever will. Adieu!  Farewell my friend,   I wish you all of life’s best, I’ll cross the sea to forget you and rest, Sail somewhere faraway, Like Portugal or Paraguay. Then, On a lonely afternoon, You’ll phone for yet Another friendly talk, Expecting me – your anchor, your rock,   Steam will blow out your ears hissing: ‘She is missing!  She is missing!’ Will you sigh and say, ‘Ah!  My Love has gone away’?
0
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
bionic-woman
Jim II
Every hour of every day, In some clichéd way, I think of you At least twice. I’m a friend, I know. You say it too much, It chafes me raw. Are you really that dense?   Or maybe it’s a ruse, A system you’ve devised To keep me at bay, Because you just don’t feel The same way. I’m crazy about you, I admit, If you saw me now, You’d recognize the guilt, Brightly scrawled across my face, Like a neon sign: The coffee, the talks, the long walks? All excuses, Preambles for profound, passionate ********** That never materialized. I don’t think it ever will. Adieu!  Farewell my friend,   I wish you all of life’s best, I’ll cross the sea to forget you and rest, Sail somewhere faraway, Like Portugal or Paraguay. Then, On a lonely afternoon, You’ll phone for yet Another friendly talk, Expecting me – your anchor, your rock,   Steam will blow out your ears hissing: ‘She is missing!  She is missing!’ Will you sigh and say, ‘Ah!  My Love has gone away’?
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39
Rio Tua Olho o rio que corre suavemente, Nobre povo, paisagem estonteante, Castanheiro terra singular, Janela aberta para te comtemplar. As montanhas descem para ti rio tua, Imagem linda sem igual, Pareces não ser rio, ser o mais lindo postal, Rio maltratado pelas gentes de Portugal. Quando me levanto te olho com amor, Encontro Deus nosso Senhor. Os melros e pintassilgos entoam afinadas melodias, E tu rio Tua te abandonas junto às penedias. Grande Abraço. Victor Marques
0
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
victor-marques
Rio Tua
Rio Tua Olho o rio que corre suavemente, Nobre povo, paisagem estonteante, Castanheiro terra singular, Janela aberta para te comtemplar. As montanhas descem para ti rio tua, Imagem linda sem igual, Pareces não ser rio, ser o mais lindo postal, Rio maltratado pelas gentes de Portugal. Quando me levanto te olho com amor, Encontro Deus nosso Senhor. Os melros e pintassilgos entoam afinadas melodias, E tu rio Tua te abandonas junto às penedias. Grande Abraço. Victor Marques
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15
Sou eu …. Caminhando por entre vales sonolentos, Penedos com mil encantos, Sobreiros abençoados, amores bem-amados, Fontes de tesouros abandonados…. Sou eu… Me vejo imortal nas papelarias feito postal, Imagino ser sempre menino, Cantar na escola o mesmo Hino, O hino sublime de Portugal. Sou eu… Que pernoito ao luar sem contas para dar, Me enalteço com vitórias e derrotas, Vejo coisas vivas quase mortas, Sentimento ímpar de um olhar. Sou eu… Nascido numa terra que seu rio sempre vai amar, Nevoeiro que se envaidece sem falar, Amor de um amor que me quer sempre bajular, Sou eu e meu fado por cantar… Victor Marques
0
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
victor-marques
Sou eu .... mais eu
Sou eu …. Caminhando por entre vales sonolentos, Penedos com mil encantos, Sobreiros abençoados, amores bem-amados, Fontes de tesouros abandonados…. Sou eu… Me vejo imortal nas papelarias feito postal, Imagino ser sempre menino, Cantar na escola o mesmo Hino, O hino sublime de Portugal. Sou eu… Que pernoito ao luar sem contas para dar, Me enalteço com vitórias e derrotas, Vejo coisas vivas quase mortas, Sentimento ímpar de um olhar. Sou eu… Nascido numa terra que seu rio sempre vai amar, Nevoeiro que se envaidece sem falar, Amor de um amor que me quer sempre bajular, Sou eu e meu fado por cantar… Victor Marques
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António teu nome, Agricultor, vitivicultor. Apaixonado pela terra, Pelo Douro, pelos Montes. Aquele amor que não se encerra, Dorme na colina, na serra. Colheu tristeza na Guerra Colonial, Amou o Douro e Portugal. Semeou a terra que alegrias lhe traria, Amou seus filhos e sua esposa Maria. Plantou videiras que olhavam o céu estrelado, Fez vinho com amor imaculado. As uvas são um amor para toda a vida, Deus nos ama até na despedida. Olhou para o Rio Douro eTua , E na memória de um povo com glória, Com aquela lágrima que eu sinto agora. Me conforto no horizonte duriense, Hoje, amanhã e sempre. Victor Marques
0
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 6:47 AM UTC
victor-marques
Última Lágrima....para meu Pai
António teu nome, Agricultor, vitivicultor. Apaixonado pela terra, Pelo Douro, pelos Montes. Aquele amor que não se encerra, Dorme na colina, na serra. Colheu tristeza na Guerra Colonial, Amou o Douro e Portugal. Semeou a terra que alegrias lhe traria, Amou seus filhos e sua esposa Maria. Plantou videiras que olhavam o céu estrelado, Fez vinho com amor imaculado. As uvas são um amor para toda a vida, Deus nos ama até na despedida. Olhou para o Rio Douro eTua , E na memória de um povo com glória, Com aquela lágrima que eu sinto agora. Me conforto no horizonte duriense, Hoje, amanhã e sempre. Victor Marques
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20
Vindima que sempre vem Que regalo é ver estas lindas uvas que serão destinadas a ser pisadas por tantos pés generosos deste povo duriense que nas encostas trabuca com suor no rosto. Depois de tantas canseiras chega a hora da colheita para todos começarem em festa um processo que acabará nos melhores vinhos de Portugal e do mundo. Para haver vindima temos de ter videiras bafejadas pelo sol, acolhidas pelo xisto e amadas pelo homem duriense que não se cansa de as amar e bajular. Este meu Douro é sem sombra de dúvida local privilegiado para a produção deste néctar abençoado por Deus. A videira que Jesus tantas vezes enumerou me faz perceber o universo, a sua diversidade e porque não mesmo a vida depois da morte. Como simples podador o homem corta as vides na esperança de uma boa colheita. Que encanto ver durante seu ciclo o despertar constante de tantos sonhos adormecidos. A videira delicia, rejuvenesce, cresce embalada pelo vento em socalcos e patamares e os rios são seus fiéis companheiros e a seu lado tantas árvores dão as azeitonas da paz e serviram de aconchego no Horto das Oliveiras para Jesus Cristo amar os homens e segredar a Deus seu Pai. Temos orgulho em nossos muros de pedreiros que esculpiram seu próprio fado, eles mudaram os olhares de um Douro mal-amado… Victor Marques
0
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
victor-marques
Vindima que sempre vem
Vindima que sempre vem Que regalo é ver estas lindas uvas que serão destinadas a ser pisadas por tantos pés generosos deste povo duriense que nas encostas trabuca com suor no rosto. Depois de tantas canseiras chega a hora da colheita para todos começarem em festa um processo que acabará nos melhores vinhos de Portugal e do mundo. Para haver vindima temos de ter videiras bafejadas pelo sol, acolhidas pelo xisto e amadas pelo homem duriense que não se cansa de as amar e bajular. Este meu Douro é sem sombra de dúvida local privilegiado para a produção deste néctar abençoado por Deus. A videira que Jesus tantas vezes enumerou me faz perceber o universo, a sua diversidade e porque não mesmo a vida depois da morte. Como simples podador o homem corta as vides na esperança de uma boa colheita. Que encanto ver durante seu ciclo o despertar constante de tantos sonhos adormecidos. A videira delicia, rejuvenesce, cresce embalada pelo vento em socalcos e patamares e os rios são seus fiéis companheiros e a seu lado tantas árvores dão as azeitonas da paz e serviram de aconchego no Horto das Oliveiras para Jesus Cristo amar os homens e segredar a Deus seu Pai. Temos orgulho em nossos muros de pedreiros que esculpiram seu próprio fado, eles mudaram os olhares de um Douro mal-amado… Victor Marques
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6
A Nossa senhora de Fátima Nas estradas da vida, do amor, do silêncio. Nas pradarias onde se foge ao vento, Nas histórias de paz, no interior do ser humano. No mistério e no desengano, no alento. Movimento acelerado do Deus Crucificado, Folhas da azinheira a seu lado. Nossa Senhora do Rosário de Fátima consagrado, Amor a Portugal e a seu fado. Sublime com tantas flores, Mãe de todos os pecadores. Os rebanhos famintos pastam nos campos de Deus, E Tu Santa MÃE implora por filhos teus. Celestial e sempre Virgem eterna sem igual, Coração belo de Rainha, És tu Senhora minha, Minha Mãe e de Portugal. Victor Marques
0
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 1:36 PM UTC
victor-marques
A Nossa Senhora de Fátima
A Nossa senhora de Fátima Nas estradas da vida, do amor, do silêncio. Nas pradarias onde se foge ao vento, Nas histórias de paz, no interior do ser humano. No mistério e no desengano, no alento. Movimento acelerado do Deus Crucificado, Folhas da azinheira a seu lado. Nossa Senhora do Rosário de Fátima consagrado, Amor a Portugal e a seu fado. Sublime com tantas flores, Mãe de todos os pecadores. Os rebanhos famintos pastam nos campos de Deus, E Tu Santa MÃE implora por filhos teus. Celestial e sempre Virgem eterna sem igual, Coração belo de Rainha, És tu Senhora minha, Minha Mãe e de Portugal. Victor Marques
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IRMA LÚCIA A tua devoção eterna à Virgem dos *** Aclamam-te anjos com brancos véus. Nasceste tu Lúcia com Coração doce nesta terra, Pediste a Nossa Senhora para nos livrar da Guerra. A santidade te pertence, pois foste escolhida, Amaste Deus toda a vida. Com um amor sem igual, Nasceste no nosso Portugal. Amas com amor e eterna verdade, Cheia de carinho e simplicidade. Viveste sempre no mundo da espiritualidade, Te recordamos sempre com saudade. Victor Marques
0
Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 10:29 PM UTC
victor-marques
Irmã LÚCIA FÁTIMA
IRMA LÚCIA A tua devoção eterna à Virgem dos *** Aclamam-te anjos com brancos véus. Nasceste tu Lúcia com Coração doce nesta terra, Pediste a Nossa Senhora para nos livrar da Guerra. A santidade te pertence, pois foste escolhida, Amaste Deus toda a vida. Com um amor sem igual, Nasceste no nosso Portugal. Amas com amor e eterna verdade, Cheia de carinho e simplicidade. Viveste sempre no mundo da espiritualidade, Te recordamos sempre com saudade. Victor Marques
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14
Antonio your name, Agriculturist, grape grower. Gotten passionate for the land, For the Douro, Mounts. That love that is not locked in, He  sleeps in the hill, the mountain range. He harvested sadness in the Colonial War. He loved the Douro and Portugal. He showed the land that joys would bring to it. He  loved their children and wife Maria. He planted grapevines that looked at the covered with star sky, He  made  his wine with immaculate love. The grapes are a love for all the life, He  looked  for Rio Douro e Tua, In  the memory of a people with glory, With that tear that I feel now. I comfort me in the duriense horizon, Today, tomorrow and always. Victor Marques love, douro, Father
0
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 7:38 AM UTC
victor-marques
António my father Name...Victor Marques
Antonio your name, Agriculturist, grape grower. Gotten passionate for the land, For the Douro, Mounts. That love that is not locked in, He  sleeps in the hill, the mountain range. He harvested sadness in the Colonial War. He loved the Douro and Portugal. He showed the land that joys would bring to it. He  loved their children and wife Maria. He planted grapevines that looked at the covered with star sky, He  made  his wine with immaculate love. The grapes are a love for all the life, He  looked  for Rio Douro e Tua, In  the memory of a people with glory, With that tear that I feel now. I comfort me in the duriense horizon, Today, tomorrow and always. Victor Marques love, douro, Father
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20
Osterreich hat den Vontrapps La Belgiquea leurs chocolats Bûlgariya e nechuvano Hrvatska je mjesto gdje žabe kreštanje Kibris bir agaçtir České čepování piva je z Czechaslovakia Denmark er ikke Delaware Eesti kividega Suomi on lähellä Norjassa ja Ruotsissa La France a Paris Deuschland spreache Deusche I Elláda échei kókkino - skepastí spítia Magyarország éhes Tá Éire ar thalamh de fearg Italia odia quando si ordinal a pizza Latvija izklausās tualete Lietuva yra skystas Lëtzebuerg *** nieft dee Belsch Malta ghandha hafna ta ' maltu Nederland wordt geschreeuwd toen Adam een doelpunt Polska am Marie Curie Portugal: Valentina: Hey que ê de on de eu sou ! România suná ca locul romanilor Slovaškia pravi, "zdravo" Slovenija je an prostem Equipo de fútbol de España Es la favorite de Karly Sverige har Minecraft United Kingdom is leaving
0
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
anima-torch
The EU
Osterreich hat den Vontrapps La Belgiquea leurs chocolats Bûlgariya e nechuvano Hrvatska je mjesto gdje žabe kreštanje Kibris bir agaçtir České čepování piva je z Czechaslovakia Denmark er ikke Delaware Eesti kividega Suomi on lähellä Norjassa ja Ruotsissa La France a Paris Deuschland spreache Deusche I Elláda échei kókkino - skepastí spítia Magyarország éhes Tá Éire ar thalamh de fearg Italia odia quando si ordinal a pizza Latvija izklausās tualete Lietuva yra skystas Lëtzebuerg *** nieft dee Belsch Malta ghandha hafna ta ' maltu Nederland wordt geschreeuwd toen Adam een doelpunt Polska am Marie Curie Portugal: Valentina: Hey que ê de on de eu sou ! România suná ca locul romanilor Slovaškia pravi, "zdravo" Slovenija je an prostem Equipo de fútbol de España Es la favorite de Karly Sverige har Minecraft United Kingdom is leaving
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28
Memória branca da tua imagem Rio Tua Por entre vales e frescas fontes, Socalcos e belos horizontes. No comboio sempre do Tua, Um beijo na doce lua. Rio tão belo que engoles as colinas, Memória branca da tua imagem, Comboio sem carruagem, Carrocel sem suas meninas. S. Lourenço que te olha divinal, Rio Tua do bom Deus e de Portugal. Pedras inertes tuas sempre serão, És rio e bom vilão… Tantas histórias os vindouros contarão, Dum rio com memória e solidão, Rio dum comboio que nunca vai passar, Excelso amor vai perdurar. Victor Marques
0
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
victor-marques
Memória branca da tua imagem
Memória branca da tua imagem Rio Tua Por entre vales e frescas fontes, Socalcos e belos horizontes. No comboio sempre do Tua, Um beijo na doce lua. Rio tão belo que engoles as colinas, Memória branca da tua imagem, Comboio sem carruagem, Carrocel sem suas meninas. S. Lourenço que te olha divinal, Rio Tua do bom Deus e de Portugal. Pedras inertes tuas sempre serão, És rio e bom vilão… Tantas histórias os vindouros contarão, Dum rio com memória e solidão, Rio dum comboio que nunca vai passar, Excelso amor vai perdurar. Victor Marques
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18
Sinto vontade de ver o meu País viver, Como sinto vontade de ver as pessoas sonhar, Desejo diariamente ver a submissão morrer, E mais desejo que a perspicácia possa vingar! Quero mesmo ver o meu país mudar, Que todas as contas sejam transparentes, Quero um país com cidadãos coerentes, Sem rótulos, sem necessidade de catalogar! Todos sejam cidadãos de primeira linha, Que acordem em cada dia com vontade de vencer, Que se veja o esforço de todos a aparecer, Enfim, um Portugal digno que a todos convinha! Que todos os angariados milhões sejam prosperidade, Sejam semeados em benefício e para todos nós, Se invista sobretudo nos valores da boa seriedade, Na transparência leal de todos com todos nós! António Benigno Código de Autor: 2015012923340101
0
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
antonio-s-p-benigno
Esperança
Sinto vontade de ver o meu País viver, Como sinto vontade de ver as pessoas sonhar, Desejo diariamente ver a submissão morrer, E mais desejo que a perspicácia possa vingar! Quero mesmo ver o meu país mudar, Que todas as contas sejam transparentes, Quero um país com cidadãos coerentes, Sem rótulos, sem necessidade de catalogar! Todos sejam cidadãos de primeira linha, Que acordem em cada dia com vontade de vencer, Que se veja o esforço de todos a aparecer, Enfim, um Portugal digno que a todos convinha! Que todos os angariados milhões sejam prosperidade, Sejam semeados em benefício e para todos nós, Se invista sobretudo nos valores da boa seriedade, Na transparência leal de todos com todos nós! António Benigno Código de Autor: 2015012923340101
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18
In 1492, Columbus had a few Things to do Before he sailed the ocean blue. He needed some green, If you know what I mean, So he went to see the King and Queen Of Portugal, England, and France: They laughed, shook their heads and said, “No chance.” While his Homies back in Italy Said, “Christabo, you gotta be kiddin’ me. You want to do WHAT!? And you want US to pay? We think you're a nut, now go on, go away." But he didn’t give up and he didn’t complain, He shook it off and took off for Spain Where Ferdinand and Isabella, Thinking him a righteous fella, Told him they would float his boat, If their country he’d promote, Plant their flag on lands discovered, and Bring them riches he uncovered, so They all signed on the dotted line, and Columbus said, “The pleasure’s mine!” Then he smiled and bowed and said, “I’ll see’ya!” And hopped aboard the Santa Maria. See Christopher knew the Greek Geeks found, That instead of flat, the earth was round, So he thought he knew, or at least he guessed, That it might be best To get Far East by sailing west. He pulled up anchor, set the sail Told ninety men, success or fail, West, they’d go, and west they went Seventy days, provisions spent, When land was spotted, dead ahead, Columbus planted the flag and said, “I claim this land for the King of Spain, In doing so increase his reign, And underneath this flag, unfurled, Declare New Spain, a brand new world!” What Columbus didn’t anticipate He was 500 years or so too late, For Eric the Red, and Leif, his son, Long ago discovered Newfoundland. Now when history tells North America’s story, There’s room for both to share the glory. But another fact, it’s become quite clear, There were thousands of people already here, See life in Asia wasn’t so great, Some folks decided not to wait, They just walked across the Bering Strait, So Chris and Leif both got here late! Phil Lindsey 1/27/17
0
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC
phil-lindsey
New World
In 1492, Columbus had a few Things to do Before he sailed the ocean blue. He needed some green, If you know what I mean, So he went to see the King and Queen Of Portugal, England, and France: They laughed, shook their heads and said, “No chance.” While his Homies back in Italy Said, “Christabo, you gotta be kiddin’ me. You want to do WHAT!? And you want US to pay? We think you're a nut, now go on, go away." But he didn’t give up and he didn’t complain, He shook it off and took off for Spain Where Ferdinand and Isabella, Thinking him a righteous fella, Told him they would float his boat, If their country he’d promote, Plant their flag on lands discovered, and Bring them riches he uncovered, so They all signed on the dotted line, and Columbus said, “The pleasure’s mine!” Then he smiled and bowed and said, “I’ll see’ya!” And hopped aboard the Santa Maria. See Christopher knew the Greek Geeks found, That instead of flat, the earth was round, So he thought he knew, or at least he guessed, That it might be best To get Far East by sailing west. He pulled up anchor, set the sail Told ninety men, success or fail, West, they’d go, and west they went Seventy days, provisions spent, When land was spotted, dead ahead, Columbus planted the flag and said, “I claim this land for the King of Spain, In doing so increase his reign, And underneath this flag, unfurled, Declare New Spain, a brand new world!” What Columbus didn’t anticipate He was 500 years or so too late, For Eric the Red, and Leif, his son, Long ago discovered Newfoundland. Now when history tells North America’s story, There’s room for both to share the glory. But another fact, it’s become quite clear, There were thousands of people already here, See life in Asia wasn’t so great, Some folks decided not to wait, They just walked across the Bering Strait, So Chris and Leif both got here late! Phil Lindsey 1/27/17
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Gratitude and Grace Awoke This Morning Twin Adventurering Path of Light and Gird Throwing Down the Stairs of Life   Tiger Adventure of The Day Grateful And Grace Paired Together Within  Footsteps Heavenly Full Leo Yes!! Ayes Roar!! Start Again Never Slain Eternal Life Precious Gratitude Lifting Elixars Vice
0
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
kw3
Portugal Croenn
Gratitude and Grace Awoke This Morning Twin Adventurering Path of Light and Gird Throwing Down the Stairs of Life   Tiger Adventure of The Day Grateful And Grace Paired Together Within  Footsteps Heavenly Full Leo Yes!! Ayes Roar!! Start Again Never Slain Eternal Life Precious Gratitude Lifting Elixars Vice
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13
My Friend I come to you I think you are bright, you are near my site I know that you are  right. You may lose or gain, You are clear like the rain, The universe is a big heart, you belong to it as a  part. You are just great, don’t ask why? The sun shines in Portugal and Dubai I pray for you every night. It's like you're candle, my light. My dear friend, I miss you you know that is true… I know that you are always with me somewhere, Look at the sky and we will care. Our friendship my dear friend, Started and doesn’t have an end. Your wine heart friend. Victor Marques
0
Dec 10, 2009
Dec 10, 2009 at 10:42 PM UTC
victor-marques
MY FRIEND
My Friend I come to you I think you are bright, you are near my site I know that you are  right. You may lose or gain, You are clear like the rain, The universe is a big heart, you belong to it as a  part. You are just great, don’t ask why? The sun shines in Portugal and Dubai I pray for you every night. It's like you're candle, my light. My dear friend, I miss you you know that is true… I know that you are always with me somewhere, Look at the sky and we will care. Our friendship my dear friend, Started and doesn’t have an end. Your wine heart friend. Victor Marques
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20
As dreamers we are oft to make-believe, Escaping the banality of time, Stories of noble royals that we weave Into the fabric of this very rhyme: For we three do descend from kings of old And queens who conquered all of their domain And live our royal lives burdened with gold And bound to royal living we remain. Royal maidens of Portugal and France With butlers who they keep in line with whips. While one insists they entertain with dance The other one decrees "Let them eat chips!" I just observe, dream, and write what cannot be Who says Punto's can't belong to royalty?
0
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
thomas-newlove
Royalty
As dreamers we are oft to make-believe, Escaping the banality of time, Stories of noble royals that we weave Into the fabric of this very rhyme: For we three do descend from kings of old And queens who conquered all of their domain And live our royal lives burdened with gold And bound to royal living we remain. Royal maidens of Portugal and France With butlers who they keep in line with whips. While one insists they entertain with dance The other one decrees "Let them eat chips!" I just observe, dream, and write what cannot be Who says Punto's can't belong to royalty?
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14